Tartarus was not a world governed by balance.
It was a world of extremes—of dominion, not harmony.
There was no single sky, no unified land, no natural order that bound it together like the worlds Youri had once known. Instead, Tartarus existed as a fractured expanse of territories, each one ruled not by nature, but by the will of whatever entity had claimed it.
Each domain was its own reality.
Each one obeyed its own rules.
And between them—
Stretched the desert.
An endless, barren expanse that carved through the entirety of Tartarus like a scar. It was the only thing that resembled neutrality… the only thing that prevented the domains from colliding into total annihilation. A buffer. A boundary. A fragile line that held chaos at bay.
And yet—
Even that desert was not kind.
Youri walked through it alone.
The wind howled endlessly, shifting direction without warning, striking him from all sides as if the world itself resisted his presence. Grains of dark sand cut across his exposed skin, carried with violent force through the air. Each step forward felt heavier than the last—not just physically, but mentally.
There was no sound beyond the wind.
No life.
No movement.
Only him.
He wore little more than what he had arrived with.
A dark green cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, its edges torn and fluttering wildly under the relentless assault of the wind. Beneath it, his standard pilot gear remained intact, though already showing signs of wear from the harsh environment.
Slung over his back was a small emergency pack—standard issue for all orbiton pilots.
Minimal.
Practical.
Never meant for something like this.
Youri didn't stop walking.
He couldn't afford to.
Because in Tartarus… standing still felt like surrender.
As he moved across the desert, his eyes remained sharp—constantly scanning, constantly observing. And what he saw around him only reinforced the reality of where he had been cast.
At the edges of the desert—
There were cracks.
Not physical fractures, but distortions in space itself.
And beyond those distortions—
Domains.
To one side, a storm world raged endlessly—lightning splitting the sky apart in constant intervals, the ground below churning under violent winds that would tear apart anything caught within.
Further beyond, a realm of molten fire stretched into the distance—lava seas boiling beneath a suffocating heat, pillars of flame erupting at random as if the land itself was alive.
Then—
The ice.
Far off, but unmistakable.
A frozen expanse of towering glaciers and endless snowfall, where the air itself seemed to crystallize. It was quiet there. Too quiet.
And something about that silence…
Made it more dangerous than the rest.
Youri exhaled slowly as he walked.
Each domain…
A kingdom.
Each kingdom…
Ruled by something.
Something like Altopereh.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"So I'm not the only one…" he muttered under his breath.
The realization settled in deeper with every step.
This wasn't just a place.
It was a prison.
A graveyard of things too powerful… too dangerous… or too unwanted to exist anywhere else.
And now—
He was part of it.
Time passed.
Or at least—
It felt like it did.
There was no sun.
No stars.
No shift in light.
The crimson sky remained unchanged, stretched endlessly above him like a painted ceiling that refused to move.
No day.
No night.
No sense of progression.
Only existence.
Eventually—
Youri stopped.
Not because he wanted to.
But because his body demanded it.
He lowered himself onto the cold, shifting sand, the wind still raging around him as if mocking his attempt at rest. His muscles ached—not from a single strain, but from constant resistance. His throat was dry. His breathing steady, but heavier than before.
For the first time since arriving—
He allowed himself to pause.
Nothing changed.
The sky remained the same.
The wind did not ease.
The world did not acknowledge him.
Youri let out a slow breath as he reached behind him, pulling the emergency pack from his shoulders. He placed it in front of him and unzipped it carefully.
Inside—
Rations.
Compact, nutrient-dense packs designed to sustain a pilot in emergencies.
Water.
Limited.
Measured.
Controlled.
He stared at them for a moment.
Then let out a quiet exhale.
"This won't last…" he said to himself.
And he was right.
Because Tartarus wasn't a place you survived with preparation.
It was a place that forced adaptation.
Or death.
Youri took a small portion—just enough to maintain himself—and sealed the pack again. Every decision mattered now. Every resource.
Waste… was not an option.
He leaned back slightly, his gaze lifting toward the distant horizon.
Toward the domains.
"I can't stay here," he said quietly.
The desert wasn't safe.
It only felt safe because nothing ruled it.
And that, in itself, was dangerous.
Because it meant—
It offered nothing.
No food.
No water.
No shelter.
Only time.
And even that was uncertain.
His eyes shifted again.
Toward the ice domain.
The only place he had seen… water.
Or at least—
Something close to it.
"If I want to survive…" he continued, his voice steady now, grounded in logic, "I have to move."
But not blindly.
Not recklessly.
Because stepping into a domain meant stepping into someone else's territory.
And in Tartarus—
Territory meant power.
Youri's expression hardened slightly.
"I can't go in like this."
He looked down at his hands.
Then back toward the endless desert behind him.
"I need something more."
And then—
His mind returned to it.
The orbiton.
Altopereh's vessel.
What was left of it.
His eyes narrowed slightly as the realization solidified.
That machine…
Even in its empty state…
Was his only advantage.
His only chance.
Altopereh had left something behind.
Energy.
Dormant.
Growing.
"If I can activate it…" Youri muttered.
Mobility.
Defense.
Power.
All things he lacked now.
All things he needed.
Without another word—
He stood.
The wind immediately pressed against him again, his cloak snapping behind him as if trying to pull him back down.
But this time—
He didn't stop.
He turned.
Back toward where he had come from.
Back toward the only thing in this world that resembled hope.
"This isn't survival anymore," he said quietly.
His eyes sharpened.
Focused.
Resolved.
"This is war."
And with that—
Youri Kronos began walking once more across the endless desert of Tartarus.
Not as a lost man.
Not as prey.
But as something else entirely.
Something being forged—
Step by step—
Into a force that could stand in a world where even monsters ruled.